


In the Strangest Dreams

by agent_izhyper



Series: merrily, merrily, (not so merrily) life is but a dream [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Realities, Canon Compliant, F/M, mindfuckery, post 3b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 21:43:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1580558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_izhyper/pseuds/agent_izhyper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The store was milling with moms as usual, kids trailing behind them, and a few teens picking up snacks and the like for the summer. Scott pushed a cart down the aisles, absently picking up the things his mom needed and letting the chatter from other customers wash over him in the background. He felt weirdly light-headed, like there was something over his ears dimming all noise. He frowned down at the lettuce in his hand and shook his head, dropping it in with the rest before pushing his cart back up to the counter.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>His steps slowed unconsciously when his eyes fell on the familiar back of a brunette head already there. Her laugh was clear across the aisle at whatever the cashier had said, and Scott’s stomach twisted oddly when she grabbed her bags and turned to leave.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>  <em></em></p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Strangest Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I would recommend reading the first fic in this series, as they're all linked together. I guess you could read this as a stand-alone, but it would probably lead to more confusion. Then again... I guess there's confusion either way, so... Still.
> 
> I should probably mention that this series is set at the end of their junior year, so yes, post 3b and yep, for the purpose of more feels (or just, y’know, more to work with) I’m keeping certain events (like Allison’s death) but disregarding others (like goddamn Kate, and Derek being taken). Uh…writer’s licence? Mostly ‘cause we don’t have enough info on the latter at the moment and I don’t want to have to work/deal with it so, yeah, Derek’s…as fine as he was before that.  
> (Also, I haven’t played Call of Duty in…like, ages, so. Yeah. Details are super sketchy. I just remember zombies xD)

Scott heaved a small sigh as he watched Stiles’ jeep round the corner at the end of his street, leaving silence in its wake. He turned his head to scan his eyes tensely over the quiet, darkened road, reaching out with his senses to assure himself that there was nothing else out there, before he let himself relax and head for his house.

The hyper vigilance thing wasn’t new but still, it was wearying. At least, Scott thought wryly as he bounded up to his room quietly so as not to disturb his mom, this intense attention to every detail around him kept him anchored in the present. He doubted the town would ever stop being a beacon for the supernaturally-inclined and crazy (Stiles’ words, of course) so being alert all the time wasn’t particularly a bad thing, especially if it kept his mind off of other things. Like how much they’d all lost, for example.

He might want a lifetime of mourning for Allison, but what he needed to do was to stay in the here and now to make sure no one else was taken from them again.

The door to his mom’s room squeaked gently when he pushed it open a fraction to peer in. Sometimes, hearing her heartbeat and breathing wasn’t enough; it wasn’t until he got a good look that Scott was reassured she was safe and fine. He smiled softly and dropped his hand from the door, treading lightly down to his own room. His bed never looked more inviting than after a long battle-filled night and it was with a deep sigh that he sprawled on top of it, shifting until the thin ray of light from the small moon sifting in through his blinds hit his face.

It was a reassuring light. Scott closed his eyes on a soft exhale and finally relaxed.

* * *

Morning dawned with the muted twittering of birds outside and the barely-discernible noises of traffic on the streets. Scott yawned and stretched in bed, feeling oddly tired considering he’d done nothing more than play videogames the day before. But maybe all the sitting down was screwing with his muscles; he knew he should have seriously considered some sort of summer sport.

After freshening up and stumbling downstairs, he found the note Mom had left him on the fridge – “ _Won’t be home until late tonight, do the groceries for me please! We are not living off of takeaway this summer_ ” – and grinned. It was still early so he figured he’d get the groceries now before he inevitably forgot later on.

Scott grabbed an apple on his way out, locked the door behind him and bounded down the front porch to his new car. Honestly, he would have given anything for a bike but there was no way Mom was going to let him ride a motorbike around town, especially with his asthma. His bicycle was too small for the groceries so car it was.

The store was milling with moms as usual, kids trailing behind them, and a few teens picking up snacks and the like for the summer. Scott pushed a cart down the aisles, absently picking up the things his mom needed and letting the chatter from other customers wash over him in the background. He felt weirdly light-headed, like there was something over his ears dimming all noise. He frowned down at the lettuce in his hand and shook his head, dropping it in with the rest before pushing his cart back up to the counter.

His steps slowed unconsciously when his eyes fell on the familiar back of a brunette head already there. Her laugh was clear across the aisle at whatever the cashier had said, and Scott’s stomach twisted oddly when she grabbed her bags and turned to leave.

He hadn’t seen Allison outside of school since they’d broken up but somehow, as her eyes locked onto him and her grin melted into something a little more sincere, the metaphorical gut-punch he was hit with was completely unexpected.

(He knew he was still hung up on her, and it wasn’t because Stiles commented on it every once in a while.)

“Scott! Hi,” Allison said, and Scott managed to unstick his feet from the ground and push his cart up until he was in front of her.

“Hey,” he smiled back. He was maybe staring a little, because she shifted a bit and her smile turned into a questioning look. Scott blinked and cleared his throat. “How’s your summer?”

Scott listened to Allison talk about her family’s plans for the summer with an attentiveness he’d never lost, but the small talk was probably harder than it should have been; they’d broken it off on good terms, after all – something which he wasn’t sure of at all now, because he hadn’t felt this flustered talking to Allison since they’d first met.

“I should get going,” he said awkwardly after a moment of silence.

Allison nodded, shifted her bags from one hand to the other. “Yeah, me too.” She shot him another smile, and Scott grinned back helplessly. “It was nice seeing you.”

“You too.”

* * *

Scott let Stiles choose the game, mainly to get his mind off the incident that morning.

“Put in Call of Duty, I feel like smashing some zombie heads in before I get around to kicking your ass.”

“When _don’t_ you feel like killing zombies?”

Stiles shot him an incredulous look while choosing the zombie mode. “Dude, who _doesn’t_ like killing the undead at any given time? Give me a zombie apocalypse over a warzone any day.”

Scott pulled a face. “They’re so gross, though. You’d really be able to chop one’s head off for real?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Stiles said enthusiastically, only to let out a put-upon sigh at Scott’s raised eyebrow look. “ _Fine_ , no, but- _really_ , Scott? ‘They’re gross’, that’s what you’re going with?”

“They totally are! Look at them.” Scott gestured at the screen as he rounded a corner and ended up right in front of four of them.

“Mm, you’re right,” Stiles nodded, before abruptly diving at Scott with his arms waving in front of him and an exaggerated moan of “ _mmm braaaains_ ”. A laugh startled its way out of Scott before he shoved at Stiles’ face and wide shit-eating grin.

“Stiles! What the hell, dude, get off,” he grumbled, hitting the pause button on his controller to stop himself from losing before he’d even started.

Stiles pulled back, laughing. “Wuss,” he teased, whacking Scott on the knee then quickly unpausing the game and resuming his seat and focus on the screen before Scott could even sit up.

Scott dived for his own controller, shifting away from his best friend and firing at some zombies before they could reach his character. “I don’t even know why I invite you over,” he groused.

“Don’t be like that, Scotty,” Stiles said happily. “Who else would feed me?”

“Your mom,” he muttered.

Stiles gasped in mock-outrage while expertly jabbing at the buttons on his controller. “ _Your_ mom!”

Scott’s lips twitched. “My mom does feed you a lot, doesn’t she. You’re totally using me for her food, aren’t you?”

“That’s an outrageous claim. I do no such thing.”

Scott had to laugh. That, at least, made Stiles break out into a wide grin and glance at him. “There you are.”

“What?” Scott chuckled. He winced and just barely managed to escape a zombie’s clutches.

“Dude, you’ve been like totally secretly moping, don’t think I haven’t noticed,” Stiles said lightly.

Scott’s smile faded as he recalled his encounter at the grocery store. “Sorry, man.”

“Nah, it’s cool.” Stiles studied him out of the corner of his eye, somehow still concentrating on the game. Scott almost died again. “Is it She-Who-Must-“

“ _Dude_.”

“What? You go all kicked-puppy-faced on me when I say her name!”

Scott sighed. He didn’t bother asking how Stiles knew. The guy was practically his brother, they knew each other inside out. “I, uh. Ran into her this morning.” He considered telling him about the weird feeling that had hung over him during the whole trip, and his and Allison’s conversation, but he couldn’t think of any way to word it that didn’t sound totally out of whack.

Stiles nodded knowingly. “You were totally awkward about it, weren’t you?”

“I _wasn’t_ -“ he started to protest, but stopped when Stiles scoffed. “I haven’t talked to her in ages,” he said defensively.

“You always said hi in class though,” Stiles offered not so helpfully.

Scott shot him his most unimpressed look. “ _Stiles_.”

He got a quick grin in return. “Sorry, dude. So, your pining game’s still going strong,” he mused. “At least you got that going for you, ‘cause your gaming sucks. You’re dead.”

Barely blinking at the conversation shit, Scott looked back at the screen and grimaced. The zombies had finally killed him. “Aw, crap.”

Stiles quit the stage. “Alright, enough zombies for now. Killer hide-and-seek, c’mon, maybe I’ll go easy on you.”

“You don’t know how to go easy,” Scott told him, settling back into the couch more comfortably and focusing on the game. “And I totally did kick your ass last time.”

“Yeah, buddy, that _was_ me going easy.”

“No, it wasn’t. You just suck at Mario Kart.”

“ _What_?! Take that back, _I don’t suck at Mario Kart_.”

“You totally- oh _come on_ how the hell did you even-“ Scott cried out as Stiles shanked him from behind.

“By _not sucking_!” Stiles crowed.

Scott did win the next round… just not majority of the rest.

* * *

By the time Stiles left, it was approaching dusk outside. Scott watched him drive off until the jeep rounded the corner at the end of the street before going back inside. He ambled over to the couch they’d just vacated, idly switching the TV to some movie.

But he was feeling too restless to watch anything. He sighed, hauled himself to his feet and checked the time; Mom wouldn’t be home until late, he had a couple of hours to kill. His muscles still felt oddly tight and it was true that he hadn’t so much as touched a lacrosse stick since the holidays had started. Maybe if he went for a quick jog, stretched his legs a bit…

The idea turned out to be a good one – the night wasn’t exactly cool (it was summer, they were in California) but still the fresh air felt good and the moon, barely big enough to cast light on the town, hung solitary in the sky, drawing his gaze more than once. He hadn’t meant to go for an extensive run or anything more than a jog around the block, but he must have pushed himself too hard, because by the time he reached his house and fell through the door, he was badly out of breath. His calves burned but so did his lungs, and for a terrifying few moments Scott didn’t know what was wrong – a half-hysterical thought flashed through his mind that this wasn’t supposed to be happening.

It only took another second (and labored breath) before his brain started screeching at him to get his inhaler out but a quick fumble through his pockets revealed nothing. _Of course there’s nothing_ , he berated himself, moving quickly to the kitchen cupboard that held his spare. Three puffs of air later, Scott leaned back against the kitchen counter and shut his eyes on a deep exhale.

Since when did he forget his inhaler _anywhere_?

* * *

Scott woke with a gasp for air, one hand automatically clutching at his chest as the phantom burn of an asthma attack quickly faded away, leaving him blinking into the dim room in confusion. He let out his breath in a whoosh of air and fell back onto his pillow disgruntledly. After kicking his covers into a less-tangled mess and flipping over to face the window again, he settled to get back to sleep. He imagined he could still feel the pull in his muscles from the fight with the druid a few hours prior. Magicky beings always left him the most fatigued.

The utter weariness had him forgetting about the weird asthma-like feeling as sleep washed over him once more.

His last conscious thought was a vague, yet deep, ache for a certain brunette’s bright, bright smile.

**Author's Note:**

> There is a reason Scott seems more affected than Stiles did. It’ll be addressed later. Also, the next part (Derek’s) concludes the whole setting-the-scene, initial instalments. After that, the structuring will be different; I don’t think anyone wants to read a million ficlets starting off with how each of these guys goes to sleep every night and ending how they wake up. ;) So. Yeah. Livening it up a bit soon. Also expect a lot more mindfuckery after that.  
> That is all.  
> (NB: I’ve never written Scott before so his part turned out more dialogue and less introspective than Stiles’, and probably a bit more of a formal tone. I can get into Stiles’ head a bit easier, I think. But yo, practice, right?)


End file.
